


Leave Me Not

by Miss221b



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deathfic, Hurt Sam Winchester, Pre-Series, Pre-Stanford, Protective Dean Winchester, Weechester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1423978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss221b/pseuds/Miss221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is tired. Tired of being yelled at, at disappointing his family. But there is something at their new home. Something that targets the boy. And suddenly, Sam thinks he might not be so tired anymore. It doesn't matter that no one else would see it quite the same way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dream

**_Disclaimer_ ** _: Nope, unfortunately I own none of this_

_Okay, wow. This is the first thing I have ever written (and, you know, shown to people), so this might be a little bumpy. I apologize for this: sorry. But I have been reading fanfiction for a long time, so this is exciting! I am not entirely sure where this is going, but it is a pretty sure thing that this will include lots of violence and attempted suicide. Let the adventure commence..._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

               The rain was pouring down. Again. Sam’s fingers yearned to trace the pattern of the drips on the car window like he used to when he was little, back before everything got so dark and scary in his life. But the thirteen year old Winchester remained stubbornly motionless except for the occasional huff that always was received with a glare from his father.

               The fight had been, like usual, about something harmless. Sam hadn’t clean the weapons at the exact moment his father wanted them done. Or maybe he was two minutes late home from school. It had evolved into a discussion about Sam’s science project. A very loud, angry discussion. Daniel had no clue that Sam was leaving and their project wasn’t even half done. Sam couldn’t just leave his partner like that. Plus, he had half of the research for it and his (stubborn) father refused to make any stops to deliver it. They were leaving in five minutes and heading straight out of town. No exceptions.

               Not for the first time, Sam sat in the backseat of the Impala, his mind briefly skimming over the idea of leaving. Just taking his meager possessions and disappearing into the night. Sure, he would miss Dean. It stung even to think about leaving the one constant thing in his life, the one thing he could ever rely on, ever truly loved. But Dean would be better off. After all, John loved to point out how often Sam screwed up; how often he almost got them ( _Dean_ ) killed. After five years of the reprimand, Sam was well aware how completely useless he was.

               His eyes, which had been so stubbornly fixed outside the window, drifted to his brother’s prone form in the passenger seat. Whatever anger he had held for his brother not standing up for him had disappeared. He often felt like this, realizing what a burden it was to have such an annoying, disobedient brother. The idea was nagging in the back of his mind, Disappearing. Maybe, for once he could do something for his brother, who had sacrificed his entire life to Sam, watching out for Sammy.

               “But, “ a voice in his head protested, one that was terrified to leave big brother, “It would hurt him! He would miss you! It wouldn’t be doing anybody good.” Sam used to listen to that voice, but nowadays he found it to be much easier to ignore. God, he wished he could just fall asleep like his brother.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

               Predictably, the cabin was old, alone, and in the middle of the woods. Sam found himself huffing again as he stepped out of the car. His dad was still watching him closely. “Probably waiting for me to mess something else up,” Sam thought angrily. He grabbed his bag and stomped inside just as Dean began to yawn and come to in the Impala.

               Dean watched his younger sibling sadly, wishing he could do something to make him feel better. He knew Sam was pissed at him because he hadn’t said a word in the earlier fight, but the teenager just didn’t understand. Dean knew, someday the fight was going to be big. It was going to be scary and try to tear their already broken family apart, and Dean needed his dad to listen to him then. It was no good making enemies and losing his opinion’s value in his father’s mind over changing schools. It still hurt though, when his brother glared accusingly at him.

               The family tentatively unpacked what little they had, they fight still hanging in the air. Their father, surprisingly, didn’t immediately leave. Instead he told of his plan to leave in the morning. He would be back in a week. Much to Sam’s displeasure, this was “Just one of those jobs. We might have to leave in less than a seconds notice and it is unnecessary to leave trails like school papers,” or whatever excuse his father concocted to explain the fact that he had been too lazy to enter Sam in the new school. Dean, on the other hand, was pleased as punch to be skipping school.

               “Just more time I get to spend annoying my little brother,” Dean said playfully, rumpling Sam’s hair.

               Sam just sighed and stepped out from under Dean’s hand. He stomped up to his room. While Sam really did appreciate his brother’s playful banter, there were just some things he could not fix. Sam didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

               The other two Winchesters watched the youngest go. Dean sighed woefully and John dropped his face into his hand.

               “The kid’s gotta learn Dean,” he said, sensing that his eldest was about to say something. But Dean remained quiet, and somberly nodded his head. He knew that Sam’s stubbornness was bound to get someone hurt one day, hell, it had already landed Sam himself in the hospital once. Dean shivered as he remembered that night. The blood. Sammy’s tears dripping down his face as he sobbed into Dean’s shoulder. His whispered words, “I don’t wanna die, De,” before he slipped into unconsciousness. God, Dean wanted to forget that night altogether. He wanted to pretend that he could trust Sam, trust him to do what he is told and stay the hell where he is supposed to. But he found that he couldn’t. He was more determined than ever to protect his sibling, but even big brother knows that there is only so much he can do. He has to be able to trust his baby, because god knows that, as much as Dean wishes that he could, he isn’t going to be there for Sam every moment if his life. And that scares him more than anything.

              

               *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

               Sam lay in bed; tears’ slipping down his face for god knows what reason, listening. The sounds below were subdued. His family was always more quiet after a fight, especially after what happened three months ago.

               “All you do is worry them,” a voice in his head hissed, “You just do things wrong and get people hurt”. Sam had to agree. It did appear to be the case.  Everyone had been so sad after he had finally woken up at the hospital. His father shakily rattled off the facts; the monster had gotten him, cut him deep, he had died on the operating table three times, and had been asleep for nearly a week, but Sam wasn’t paying attention. He was looking at the expression that adorned his friends’ faces. Granted, they had all seemed pleased that he was awake and doing much better, but there was still the look on their faces. Dad, Bobby, Dean, even Ellen had joined in on the hunt. They were scared, hurt, and unhappy. Sam had put that look on their faces; he had done that because he couldn’t follow the simplest directions of staying out of the way.

               The door creaked open and Sam heard Dean enter the room.  He stayed facing away, not giving any indication he was awake. He just didn’t feel like talking to his brother. “You’re such a child,” the voice chided him. Sam held back a whimper as Dean sighed and slipped into his own bed. He knew he was hurting his brother. God, he knew.  So why couldn’t he just _stop_? “Because, Sam, you’re a no good baby that only gets in the way,” Sam really whished the voice would kindly shut the hell up. He already knew all of this. His sadness continued to wash over him in waves until he fell into a fitful sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

               _There was no noise. No color. No life. Everything was…still. Sam stood on the edges of the clearing of trees. He gazed to the center. There was a fire, huge, burning and burning. Humming filled the air. It was fitting to the monotone scene that the tune was somewhat devoid of life. It was eerie in the pitch of the child’s voice. It suddenly struck Sam how incredibly odd it was that the fire was burning so well. The forest appeared to have just been through a rainstorm, and all the wood was extremely damp. He drifted closer to the flames, everything seeming particularly dreary and Sam didn’t feel inspired to move very quickly. Sam found that he, in fact, wasn’t really feeling anything. Suddenly, he was next to the flames. Everything was normal. But he should look down. Into the fire. He had to see, something was compelling him but…no._ Look. _His eyes traced the flame down. Suddenly, the color and smell came back to his mind with alarming speed. Everything was red and it smelled horrible and oh_ God _Sam stumbled backwards suddenly feeling the need to vomit. His father’s face stared at him from within the flames, and Bobby’s and Ellen’s and Jo’s and Jim’s and… Sam screamed when he saw his brother’s face, the flesh peeling off as his (dead) eyes pierced into Sam. The tune was urgent now, right behind Sam and he turned and it was_ just a girl _but her face was mangled and burnt and she screamed and Sam fell backwards again. He fell onto his brother and the flames licked his body as the girl cackled. Sam tried to scream but there was fire in his mouth._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

               The youngest Winchester shot up in bed, gasping for breath. His face was wet and he was alarmed to find it was tears. Everything came rushing back to him and he jerked his head around to see his brother alive and breathing, fast asleep in his bed. “Oh God” he moaned quietly to himself. There was no way in hell he was going back to sleep after that. He found himself moving without thinking about it. He was up, his coat was on and he was…outside.

               “I’ll just take a quick walk and be back soon,” he told himself, knowing exactly how unpleasant Dean could be when he wakes up to find Sam missing, especially when they are in the middle of the woods and Sam must have gone into the dense, uncharted territory surrounding them. Oh yes, he was quite unpleasant.

               After about ten minutes of walking Sam had come to the conclusion that these woods were untouched; nobody had been here in a long while. Somehow, that comforted him. He wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone. Not that it would matter, only crazy people are out walking in the woods at three in the morning. Sam stopped as he fully registered the time that he had noticed (but not really) on the stove on his way out. Why did he think this was a good idea? The ground was soggy, his bare feet now wet and freezing. Suddenly it seemed too much like his dream and it all became suffocating. He was blindingly aware of the fact that he had no weapon and nothing to defend himself if a monster was to find him out in the woods. He remembered the pain from the last time this had happened and, in a flash was running back to the cabin. Or, at least, he thought so. Which direction was that again?

               Sam was flustered and more than a little scared. He was usually so good at navigating his way through the woods; his family had relied on his skill on a hunt more than once. So why couldn’t he find his way back now? It was as if he had never been in this part of the woods before, while he knew he must have just passed through it. He ran for about thirty minutes before collapsing in despair. What was happening to him? He just felt so tired and sad and lost and it was all much too much. He sat down against a tree and began to sob hopelessly, somehow convinced that Dean would never find him and he would be lost out here until he died.

               Oh _God._

               He paused for a moment, trying desperately to collect his thoughts through the hazy fog in his mind. That’s when he heard it. The sound of sobbing that would forever change his life.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**_To be continued…._ **

_So this wasn’t a very bad cliffhanger, I think maybe. However, I will warn you that things are about to go very downhill for our little Sammy ;)_


	2. Mary

Disclaimer: Nope. Don’t own anything. Unfortunately…  
Soooo chapter two. Still really excited about this story and I pretty much know what is going to happen, so that is good! Anyway, warning, things aren’t about to go very nicely for poor Sammy.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Dean groaned as he stretched out in his bed. The mattress was definitely in his top ten worst ever. He had managed to sleep for a full half hour. “Oh well,” he tried to reason, “a little is better than nothing.” He turned over to check on Sam as a reflex. Unfortunately, Sam was nowhere to be seen. Dean swore under his breath, jumping out of bed as quietly as he could. No need to involve his father so early into his Sam hunt. He was pissed at the kid, sure, but he also wanted to avoid another conflict with his father.  
Dean knew his little brother. Knew his habits, how loud and obnoxious he was on the occasion he would get up in the middle of the night and gone to the bathroom or kitchen. Not to mention, he had checked everywhere. Sam was no longer in the house, so he must be outside, In the woods.  
“God dammit,” he cursed again, getting on his coat and storming out into the frigid night, but not before tucking a knife into the waistband of his jeans and grabbing a gun. He tried to pretend that he wasn’t scared. Really, he wasn’t. But Sam was alone in the woods at three in the morning, the perfect set up for disaster. It was a bit discomforting. He quickly traced his brother’s footprints and followed them into the woods.  
“The kid is in for a world of hurt,” he thought somberly to himself, trying to distract himself from the fact that something could very well have beat Dean to it.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Sam shivered as he stood up, wary of the sudden intrusion. “Hello,” he asked softly, feeling that anything above a whisper would draw much too much attention to himself in the eerily silent forest. The sobs broke off with a quick intake of breath. “Hello?” Sam tried again, curious. He pushed through the nearby vegetation to find himself on the bed of a large creek. One the other side, a girl.  
She looked at him, astonished. Her dark wet hair plastered to the side of her thin, pale face, wet with rain and tears. Her eyes were a blue, just vivid enough to be noticeable to a very observant Sam Winchester, but not vivid enough for him to remember. Her clothes were of the modest variety, a grey dress and black slip-ons, all of which were as wet as the rest of her as she sat in the mud.  
They both paused and stared for a moment, alarm clear on their young faces. “Hey,” Sam murmured, on alert but also feeling somewhat bad for the girl sobbing in the middle of the woods. She didn’t respond, just watched him. “Um, are you okay?” he asked, wanting to help her. She looked down at her hands, now submerged in the water of the creek and shrugged. “Are,” Sam stumbled a bit, “are you lost?” Her eyes flicked slowly to his face. She inspected him closely, as though making a decision. He shivered, suddenly feeling very exposed and vulnerable.  
She stood up slowly, her eyes on his for the duration of the movement. Her head shook slowly but she made no move to leave. “Oh” Sam said softly, unsure as how to proceed.  
She indicated to the little clearing of trees she was standing in and spoke, softly, “This is my spot. I come here when my father starts to yell.” Her voice was fascinating, light and airy as if it was a toddler’s voice, though she could easily be Sam’s age, if not slightly older. Unexpectedly stunned by her, Sam just repeated his former statement of, “Oh.”  
She smiled softy and continued, “My name is Mary. I live about twenty minutes away.” This shocked Sam, who had believed there was no one around for at least an hour, as was his father’s preference. “Sam. Sam Winchester. I live, somewhere around here…” She smiled again, “Okay, so you are the one who’s lost,” her tone was very matter of fact. Indignantly, Sam muttered, “Not lost persay” Her response to this was composed of a giggle and “I could help”. Enraptured by this odd girl, Mary, Sam was about to agree to whatever the hell she was suggesting when they both froze to listen.  
“What was that?” Mary asked, sounding frightened. The voice echoed again “Sam!”  
Everything hit Sam with a brute force. He was lost in the woods, which he wasn’t supposed to be in in the first place. And, alarmingly, he could see the sun in the distance. It must have been hours since he left. And Dean was up, looking for him. “Shit,” he gasped, wondering how in the world the time had escaped him. He looked back to the girl. She was at the edge of the clearing, as far as she could be from Sam without disappearing into the trees. “No,” he attempted, “don’t go” but she just smiled sadly.  
A “See ya around Sammy” and a wink and she was gone.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
“Sam? Sammy!” Sam awoke to find his head being shaken about along with the rest of his body, somebody’s strong hands on his shoulders, ushering him to consciousness. He tried to tell them to stop, he wanted to sleep, he wanted to go back to Mary, but the shaking persisted. His eyes reluctantly flickered open. The first thing he saw was the dense leaves surrounding him on all sides. The next thing he saw was Dean’s face. Dean’s very afraid, and therefor very scary face.  
“Hey” he murmured slowly, still coming back to himself. The shaking died off as Dean babbled out a stream of big brother questions. “Are you okay, are you alright, does it hurt anywhere, where have you been, what the hell where you thinking,” the questions becoming more and more frustrated and he figured out that Sam was not hurt.  
Sam’s voice was hoarse as he answered simply, saying, “I’m fine”. He looked around trying to figure out what had happened. He was in the same place he had been when he had collapsed under the tree, the place he had been when he had first heard Mary.  
Oh, Mary! He sat up a bit straighter, peering around curiously. “Where is she,” he asked slowly, his mouth still feeling odd. Dean looked at him oddly. “Who?” Sam suddenly felt a strong sense of protectiveness, not wanting to share the secret of the mysterious girl he had seen. He shook his head. Still eyeing him suspiciously Dean hauled him to his feet. “Come on,” his tone was gruff, “Dad’ll be awake be now. You can explain when we get back.” Sam gulped and staggered along with his brother, wondering how he had managed to find his way back to the tree, not remembering anything after Mary left. In fact, it was almost like Mary had just been a dream. But, of course she wasn’t. Sam knew. He knew. Mary was real, and he knew he would see her again. There was just, something.  
He watched the forest fade behind him, subconsciously planning when he could sneak out again. Tonight, he decided.


	3. Chapter 3

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
As they grew closer to the cabin, Dean’s grip became more tight and demanding, to the point where he was practically dragging Sam, who was constantly tripping, his lack of sleep finally catching up to him. He just wanted to sleep. And see Mary. It was the strangest thing. He didn’t want to think of her, and he wasn’t trying to. It was more like there was something on his shoulder, whispering her name over and over. There was something about her that mystified him.  
Dean, on the other hand, was trying very hard not to think about the tremendous fear thrown at him when he first caught sight of his lost sibling slumped against a tree, and think instead of how very pissed off he was at the whole situation.   
The trek back to the cabin was actually relatively short. Sam began to think how odd that was, why in the world couldn’t he find the way back, he was trained for situations like that. The voice in his head laughed, much more pleasant than Sam could remember it being. Well, it chuckled happily, if you had, you never would have met her. Aren’t you glad you met her? Sam smiled to himself. Yes, he was very happy. He wasn’t even scared of his father’s wrath that he was certainly soon to meet.   
Still dragging Sam, Dean stomped into the house. Their father was on the phone with what sounded like Bobby, while digging through his duffle, apparently looking for a gun. “No I don’t know. They just aren’t here!” He caught sight of a very annoyed looking Dean and a strangely calm Sam. “Yeah. I found ‘em. Call you back later Bobby”. His voice was dangerous. Sam still wasn’t afraid. He was listening to the voice in his head. It was telling him about Mary, and he was finding the idea very pleasant.   
“Where. Have. You. Been.” John growled, taking a step closer to his sons. 

“Why don’t you ask Sam,” was Dean’s sullen reply. “I woke up and the little punk was gone. It was three in the fucking morning. He wasn’t in the house, so I went out and found him” And with that, Dean let go of Sam and moved to stand next to his father, both of them glaring at Sam. John raised an agitated eyebrow, prompting his youngest to speak. When Sam continued to not look at any of them, John said his name loudly, angrily.   
“Hmmmmmm?” Sam murmured, still not completely out of his own head. He noticed the look everyone was giving him though, and was able to put two and two together. He knew they weren’t happy with him for leaving, but he didn’t understand why. It had been fine. He was with Mary. He savored the name as he said it in his head. He couldn’t of gotten hurt. “I went for a walk” was all he said. Needless to say, this did not appease his small family.   
“At three in the morning?! What the hell where you thinking Sam? You don’t even have a weapon with you! What if you had gotten hurt? What if something had fucking been out there?! I thought I taught you better than that. Go. NOW.” He yelled, indicating towards the stairs leading towards his and Dean’s room. Sam understood that, and ran upstairs. He flung himself down on his bed and almost cried again before he stopped himself. Winchesters don’t cry, he told himself. I have to be strong, like Dad and Dean. It still hurt. He hated fighting with his family, especially if Dean was completely on his father’s side. The idea of leaving came back and again seemed appealing. They don’t understand, the voice hissed, they don’t get to see her, to be with her. They could never understand. Sam could only agree before he fell into a restless slumber, with only one person on his mind.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Dean watched as his brother scampered upstairs. He was surprised, he had expected his father to yell at him for at least a solid twenty minutes, not two. He turned to glance at his father, and was even more shocked to see tears in his eyes.   
“Goddamnit” his dad suddenly yelled, turning and throwing his phone against the wall in anger. “Dad?” Dean asked tentatively. Without turning to face his son, John spoke. “That kid… he never learns Dean. I can’t…. I can’t even fucking trust him anymore. And I sure as hell can’t lose him. I just… Christ I just don’t know what to do. Seeing him lying there in your lap on the way to the hospital, not knowing if he would survive or not…..” He sighed greatly. Dean could only nod sadly in agreement. They were both terrified. They could try their best to protect their youngest from all the monsters in the world, and it wouldn’t make the slightest difference if they couldn’t save Sam from his own reckless actions.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
All right, this is a short chapter. I’m sorry! And I promise some hurt Sammy SOON.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Nope, I don’t own anything *sobs*

 

SPNSPNSPN SPNSPNSPN SPNSPNSPN

When Sam awoke again, John was gone. He sighed, slightly grateful. He didn’t really want to have to face his father again after what happened. Dean was beside him, glaring down. “Up Sam. Come on; Dad’s orders. You have to run extra today, so you might as well get at it.” Sam groaned to himself, before the idea struck him that he might be able to sneak away and see Mary again. He got up, somewhat sluggish, and noted distastefully that the day was droopy and promised rain.   
Dean finished his laps in twenty minutes and went back inside, promising Sam that he would be watching him so he better not slack off. Sam knew that was a lie, at least for the next ten minutes, in which Dean would be in the shower. He waited two before running into the woods, the way he had last night. It had already felt like centuries since he had last seen Mary, and he almost felt pained to be away from her this long. He didn’t have to walk long, and soon came upon the riverbank he had stumbled upon earlier. And there she was. She looked different. Sam didn’t notice, not really. She was Mary, she was beautiful. Her eyes were now a glossy green, and her face peppered with freckles. She looks like Dean, he thought, almost giggling. He just must not have noticed in the dark of last night.   
She smiled when she saw him. “Sam” she spoke his name happily, standing up from her spot in the mud. Her dress was the same, and her shoes, both covered in mud. But Sam didn’t mind. He struggled to speak. He finally managed a weak “Hi”.   
Her grin grew even brighter. “I hope you aren’t lost today.” He shook his head he said “And I hope you aren’t sad today.” It was a dumb thing to say, he knew after he said it. She just continued to grin. “Nope, my daddy is gone today. But now I’m alone, so it’s lonely instead.” Sam jumped on the chance to get closer to the girl, “I could come over and, ya know, keep you company….” His voice trailed off.  
“Sam,” she spoke, drifting towards the river separating them, “I would love nothing more than for you to come with me. But you can’t, not yet.” Ouch, okay that hurt, Sam thought dully, feeling irrational tears begin to rise at the rejection. “There is something you need to do first” His ears perked up, and he listened intently. He would do anything to please Mary.   
“Yes? I’ll do anything!” Her grin widened, and turned slightly predatory, not that Sam noticed. He just thought how nice her teeth were. “You can’t ever come back Samuel Winchester,” Sam twitched at the statement, not sure if he liked where it was going, “But you can be with me, Forever” Sam’s breath fell out of his mouth at the way she said forever. He suddenly knew that it was all he wanted, all he ever wanted, to be with Mary, forever and ever. He nodded ferociously, and she hissed with delight over the control she had over the boy. Yes, this one will be perfect. “Tonight, my Sammy,” she purred his name the way the brother, Dean, did, knowing it would have the desired effect, “Come here tonight with a knife and I swear on my soul we can be together, and I will take you home.”  
Sam could hardly wait, and wanted to interject that he wanted it now but something told him it had to be tonight, or else why would Mary ask? He smiled, and she whispered, “Go”, before disappearing into the trees.   
SPNSPNSPN SPNSPNSPN SPNSPNSPN  
Sam’s jog back was easy, and when he found himself in their yard, there was no pissed off Dean. Pleased that he hadn’t noticed, and excited by the prospect of that night, he finished his extra miles eagerly. When he came in, Dean was asleep on the couch with some dumb movie that involved a lot of guns and explosions playing in the background. Sam slipped upstairs and gently drew his favorite knife out of his duffle bag, smiling. Tonight, it was the voice, Tonight, everything will be better. And Sam smiled. 

Okay. No hurt Sam. But there was an idea of hurt Sam, and it is coming.   
And reviews are love. Seriously, I smile and giggle like a crazy person when I read the reviews, I love them so much!!!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Nope, I still don’t own anything, nor am I profiting from this in any way (unless you count having fun as a form of currency. I really hope you don’t. Who am I even talking to right now?....)  
SPNSPNSPN SPNSPNSPN SPNSPNSPN  
Dean groaned as he sat up on the couch. Damn, he had forgotten to watch Sam. It wasn’t like Sam to skip any of his running, but with the way he had been acting as of lately, one couldn’t be too careful. He peered at the clock and was shocked to find it had been an hour. He snuck upstairs, not knowing why exactly he was sneaking, and opened the door to their room slowly. He let out of breath he didn’t know he had been holding when he caught sight of his brother asleep on his bed. Sam had been worrying him as of late. The kid wasn’t acting like himself, and what with the life they live, it can have serious implications. Dean decided he would just keep an even closer eye on his brother than usual (as if that was even possible) and wait it out. If he had Sam in his sight, no harm could come to him. With that and a shake of the head, he left the door open and went downstairs to make some mac and cheese for lunch.  
Dad had left them with ample money after a particularly good game of pool, so they could have decent portions of whatever they ate without worrying if they would need it tomorrow. He smiled as he heaped a huge glob of cheesy noodles onto the plate he had designated as Sam’s. He approached the stairs and yelled up at his sibling, “Hey Sammy! Lunch, come and get it kiddo!” When there was no response he heaved an annoyed sigh and climbed up to the second floor of the cabin. “Sam,” he tried again, sharper this time. He opened the door that he was fairly certain he had left open fifteen minuets ago… and found the bed empty.  
He let out a sigh and tried not to yell. The kid was probably just in the bathroom or something. Where else would he be? Right, the bathroom. He turned and was not surprised to find the small bathroom’s door empty, and the open.   
“Sam” and said again, mostly to himself. “Where. Are. You.” His tone grew menacing, and he found himself fed up with Sam’s games as of lately. He froze as he heard a floorboard creak. It sounded as though it was coming from downstairs. He slowly went down the unfortunately noisy stairs and into the kitchen. He was alarmed to find the basement door open. That was never good in a horror movie, which was basically what their lives where. He approached it slowly and called out his sibling’s name again. Suddenly, the feeling that someone was behind him shivered through him, and he turned. To find Sam two fucking inches from his face.  
“Jesus Sam!” he exclaimed, jumping back, “Where were you?!” His brother did not respond immediately, just stared at him sleepily and looked lazily around, before asking a question of his own.  
“What?” He did not appear to have heard Dean’s earlier exclamation. Dean tried again, the annoyance thick in his voice. The whole situation was so damn iffy.   
“Where were you? Were you in the basement? ‘Cause Dad told us not to go down their Sam; the stairs are rotten.” Sam paused a moment before speaking again.   
“I just needed it” Dean looked closer at his brother’s pale face, analyzing him. “It?” Sam just nodded before turning and looking as though he was heading back to the bedroom. The older Winchester grabbed Sam’s arm, suddenly speechless. Sam looked back at him, and he was so surprised by the emptiness in those green orbs that were so usually full of enthusiasm.   
“Sammy…” he spoke quietly, before Sam shrugged his arm off and proceeded upstairs. Something was wrong, something was certainly not right. He stood, alone, at the bottom stairs, lost in horrible thought.  
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At first Sam hadn’t liked the basement. It was dark and cold and he felt like the stairs would certainly give out. But the shadows looked like Mary, and everywhere he turned, he could see her face. He suddenly was okay with being down there. His hands searched through the dusty piles of old blankets and soggy boxes for it. Mary told him that it had to be this one, this knife. He didn’t bother to wonder why. He wanted it to be perfect when he joined Mary. He still wasn’t sure what that meant or why he wouldn’t be able to come back, but he trusted her. He wanted this, to get away, and be with her. Somehow he understood that Dean would be less than pleased with the whole situation, and knew it was to be kept a secret. Mary’s voice hissed in his head. He could hear Dean calling his name, and knew that Dean couldn’t find him in the basement. He would ask questions. He rushed out, disappointed, but promising that he would come back later for the knife that Mary wanted.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Do not own anything. Nope.  
This chapter was so much fun to right. No idea why. It’s a bit short, but I wrote it during my Forensics Conference (FIRST PLACE, this story is my good luck charm!!!)

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Dean sat at the kitchen table waiting for his father to come home. He wasn’t entirely sure if something was wrong or if Sam was just being a bitchy teenager. Still, better to be safe than sorry. He had called his father and asked him to come home early, much to the man’s annoyance. It was approaching nine and John still wasn’t home yet. Dean sighed ad got up, intent on checking on his mysterious younger sibling. He climbed the stairs slowly, listening for any noises. He heard Sam’s voice, soft and hushed, obviously not wanting Dean to hear him from downstairs. He approached the slightly open door, and nearly stopped breathing.  
Sam was sitting at the windowsill, looking out the window. The room was freezing, and there was frost over everything, including the window. However, the truly terrifying part was the figure the frost formed in the window, the moving, breathing, and speaking figure. To him, it seemed like a vague silhouette of a girl, but Sam obviously saw more as he spoke to it.   
It was when Sam began to raise his hand to touch the figure that Dean came back to himself and tried to push the door open. It seemed eternally heavy, but it moved. Sam’s head whipped around, his face scarily blank. At the same time, the figure in the window looked at him as well, and he could make out its eyes. Huge and black, seeming like they could absorb anything nearby. He suddenly knew nothing more than getting his brother away from that thing.   
He ran in and ripped Sam away, smashing the window with a nearby chair. He gasped a moment, watching to see if it would come back immediately. He couldn’t have been looking away from his brother for more than a second, but the door slammed shut and when he turned Sam certainly wasn’t in the room. He ran to the door and bashed against it with his shoulder, but it didn’t budge. He took the chair to it and knocked it down. He ran desperately through the hallway and down the stairs. He felt more than relieved when he heard the sound of his father arriving. He ran out and nearly screamed.  
“Dad there’s something here it here and it has Sam DAD” John forced his son to calm down for a moment and explain to him. When he did, his father cursed, and they ran back inside. They frantically ran all over the house, screaming Sam’s name, but he could not be found.   
Dean finally found the basement door. He gulped and moved slowly to open it. Somehow, call it the sudden pick up of wind or the insane drop in temperature; he knew that this was it. Sam was down there, and some monster sonovabitch thought it could take him. Rage colored Dean’s vision and he threw open the door despite its supernatural resistance. He was taking his baby brother back.   
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Sam lay waiting in bed, waiting for Dean to go to sleep. He sighed and turned over. The room suddenly seemed warmer and happier. He knew it was Mary, and that she wasn’t really here. But her influence was still marvelous. The window lit up as the sun came out from behind a cloud, and there was a dappling shadow in the window. He smiled and was up against the window in a second. Mary’s shadow smiled back at him. They spoke quietly to each other, Mary promising him happy things after that night, and Sam promising never to leave when she asked.   
Then Dean showed up. Mary seemed more than displeased with this, and disappeared from the window seconds before his brother smashed it. Sam wanted to scream at him and hit him, but Mary was in his ear whispering harshly. Now. Now. NOW. He felt a pang of fear and discomfort, but followed her urgency to the basement. The knife; he needed the knife.   
He could hear the yelling upstairs, but was pressed to ignore it as he searched desperately for his key to Mary. It was a corner, under the stairs and underneath all of the boxes where he found the floor broken through and dirt showing. He got down on his hands and knees and sifted through the damp soil until his fingers brushed against something. His eyes grew wide as he saw the bones peeking out through the dirt. He wanted to stop, but he couldn’t. Mingled in with the bones was the knife, gleaming dangerously sharp despite its years buried.   
He wanted Dean to come down and take him upstairs and make him cocoa like he did when Sam was upset. He didn’t want to be in the basement with the scary knife and a voice in his head. What had he been thinking? Though the want was gone, there was still something in his head pulling him towards Mary, and he couldn’t stop.   
The door above him creaked and Mary was furious. She screamed at him to go and do it already. He realized all too suddenly what it was she wanted him to do and felt absurdly stupid for not figuring it out early. He hadn’t been able to think right, his mind cloudy with the want to get away; away from his dad and their life and… maybe even Dean.   
Now though, with the voice screeching at him and his hand raising the knife to his chest he realized that he just couldn’t find it in him to give a fuck about everything unfair his father had done, all the schools, the countless times he, being the “weird kid”, had wanted so badly to slip away and die alone. No, with death looking him right in the face, all he could think about, all he cared about was the fact that he would never see his brother again. He would never hear Dean make some dumb joke that Sam would want to laugh at, but would just roll his eyes. He regretted that, not laughing. He would now, if he could. He would laugh at every silly and pointless thing Dean said because he said them to make Sam laugh, to make his brother happy. He did so much for Sam. Suddenly it hit him; the other side of the misery. When he came home from school those days he wanted to die, and Dean was waiting with some movie and pizza and his lopsided grin all for Sam. Dean made life worth living, and now it was too late.   
He let out a sob when he saw Dean scrambling down the stairs, the horror in his eyes when he caught sight of the knife, and all Sam wanted to do was say sorry.  
Instead him brought down the knife into his heart.  
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Dean screamed.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Nope. Don’t own anything.  
New chapter! YEA! Also though… don’t be mad. It’s not pretty. At all. BUT I’M NOT APOLOGIZING.  
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It was Sam. It had always been Sam. From the day he was born, Dean had known nothing else than the fact that Sam was his world and his whole life. Day in and day out, Dean loved Sam. He fed him his food when their dad was out and Sam was still too small to hold the spoon steadily. He had guided him though his first steps and his first words (“De” and “No” being the first of the first). Dean was the one who walked him to his first morning of school and trotted back with him after. He shared whatever money he could scrounge up with Sam and bought them chocolate. He held Sam’s hand whenever he was hurting, and always tried his best to put him back together again. He smiled at his brother’s achievements and laughed at the follies. And never once in his whole life did he wish he was doing anything different than being Sam’s big brother.  
So yeah, Sam was the sun to Dean’s day, the beat to his heart, the happiness in his smile, and all of that other poetic shit Sam loved so goddamned much. Dean wanted to scream it out loud, to make Sam hear that Dean loved him, that Dean was there. But he couldn’t.  
Dean had lunged for his brother, tried to catch him before he fell with the wicked knife in his chest. But he couldn’t do that right either, and Sam hit the ground with a loud thunk and his head with a sickening crack. Dean arrived seconds later, grabbing his younger sibling up into his lap. He felt numb, as though neither of them were really there. His brain refused what he was seeing. The blade in his brother’s heart, buried to the hilt. The blood pouring from the horrific wound. And Sam’s eyes, open and unseeing, watching the ceiling above him.  
Sam was so still. He was never still. He was always bouncing on the walls, babbling on about school and books and even research, with Dean ever listening with a slight smile on his lips. Never before had Dean felt the still, dead weight of his brother in his lap, unseeing and not breathing. He wanted to forget the feeling.  
“No.” was all he could manage. “Nononono” as he brought his shaking fingers to his siblings neck for a pulse. He knew what he would find. He choked when he felt the absence of a pulse. Sam was dead. Sammy was gone. His baby brother was gone and Dean was alone. His whole world had come to a screeching stop the moment Sam had left it. Now he knew nothing except that there was a huge, gaping hole were the love that had been his life was missing. It was an odd feeling, not having a Sammy there, by his side to look out for. Dean was wrapped up in a shroud of pain and despair and misery in his head as he tried to process the fact that he no longer had his Sammy.  
He glanced for a moment outside the storm in his mind and saw Sam laying in his lap. His mind blanked once another side of the horrific story occurred to him. He had no Sam. But Sam had no…. anything. Sam had died, probably for whatever reason thinking he was alone or unloved or whatever the evil thing had whispered to him. He had died virtually alone and cold and desperate whilst on the short journey to the basement floor.  
Suddenly Dean knew nothing more than the fact that he was covered in red and Sam was dead and he was screaming. He heard his dad’s urgent footsteps coming towards him and everything went black.  
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The next day Dean awoke to an anguished father and a dead baby brother. His head was pounding as he stumbled past his tear-streaked father and found said brother’s body laid out neatly on the kitchen table, salt and kerosene on the counter.  
The next day Dean stood beside his father and watched his whole world burn away while he held the lighter in his hand.  
The next day Dean decided he would rather die than leave his brother.  
The next night John was burning yet another son.  
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bum Bum BUM. So I know the ending was kinda written differently than the rest of the story. I’m just a huge procrastinator and really wanted to get out an ending for you guys tonight. And I am pretty dang pleased with it. And yes, I do seem to, for whatever reason, have a morbid fascination for suicidal Winchesters. Ah well, I think I can live with it ;)  
ALSO, there WILL BE AN EPILOGE. Just too kinda wrap up some lose ends. Like what the hell Mary is. So that should be out in, like, at least 2 years. Again, so sorry for my very bad publishing schedule. I’m afraid it’s only gonna get worse, however. My laptop belongs to the school and they keep them over the summer. They are taken away April 22nd….. this makes me sad. I have a home computer, however I share it with everyone and nobody really knows I write Soooo. Anyway. LOVE YOU GUYS!!!


	8. Epilouge

Okay, so I snuck off with my mom's laptop and wrote this with no planning whatsoever and about ten minutes. So sorry for any errors!

This is told from Bobby's perspective, just BTW

Now, lets finish this freaking fic already!

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I was finally drifting off to sleep for the first time in days when John Winchester started pounding at my door. I was tempted to tell him to go fuck himself; it was three in the morning for god's sake. But then I thought of those youngins he was always dragging across the country. I decided to get out of bed, if not for John, then for Sam and Dean.

Now I have seen John Winchester in bad shape before. I've seen him with bones stickin out the wrong way and with blood pouring out what seemed to be every possible orifice. But I had never seen him with the look or sheer insanity and misery he wore on his face when I dragged that door open. Being a hunter, I immediately scanned the area, and was relieved to find there were no monsters, but distressed to find there were no Sam and Dean, either.

"Bobby," he croaked, tear tracks on his crazed face and sobs building in his throat.

_Please God, no. Not those two. Those boys deserved nothing but happiness. Please God, let them be safe in some shithole of a motel waiting for their ungrateful daddy to come back for them._

But it was too late, and not amount of praying was gonna change that. Though John certainly believed differently.

He stayed with me about a month. A month he went without eating, or talkin, or doing anything outside of reading all the books I owned, searching desperately for something he could blame for the new tragedy that had befallen him. He didn't tear his eyes away from the words, and I didn't stop calling everyone I had in my phonebook, trying my best to help.

I knew these boys most of their lives. I had been there when Sammy had taken his first step, and Dean had had his first day of school at the kindergarten in Sioux Falls. We had had many late night adventures, making pizza or reading stories. Hell, I had gotten my goddamed dog because I knew Sam wanted one with a burning passion and I knew John, the idgit, always shot him down. And, more importantly, I had witnessed the two brothers growing up  _together_. Sure, I put the bandaid on Sam's skinned knee, but Dean held his hand the whole time, and played his dumb games the rest of the week, and snuck into Sam's bed each night to make sure he really was okay. He knew that, while the kids might not have been happy with their life, they were happy with each other. What Sam did, it just didn't make sense. The kid would not have killed himself, I just couldn't see it. So, yeah, I agreed with John, and took the search up with a frenzy.

I did not, however, believe with his obsession with bringing them back. I had long sense made my peace with heaven. I believe in it, I have to. It's where my wife is, my mother, my cousins and grandparents and all of the other souls that had given me comfort growing up. I believe that that is exactly where Mary Winchester is, and so are her sons. I miss the kids, and wish to heaven and hell they were still with me, but I get a semblance of comfort from the idea that they are somewhere where they will never have to worry about each other again, and somewhere where they can be with the mother they had been brought up to revere.

I had seen other hunters, other people come back from the dead in my time. And on every occasion, it ended poorly. I didn't want to drag the boys down from heaven with some curse that would eventually send them to hell. I tried to voice my concerns to John, but he would not hear it. He just kept repeating that he would protect them, this time he would save them. He just needed another chance. Suffice to say, I was a tad frightened for the Winchester family.

Then we found it. A tip, from some random hunter number in my phone, and John was off, looking through a book buried deep under all the others. It was a short entry, no pictures or bold words to draw the eye. But there it was.

_Name: Veitrein_

_Origin: Germany_

_Age: 900+_

_Description: Physical description alters as it hunts. It latches onto prey's mind, feeds off of it until the kill. Does so by gaining prey's trust, and lulling them into a sense of false security. Looks into their mind, and changes their appearance to provide the prey with someone more comfortable. Often takes subtly after close family and friends. Plays with the prey's mind, and can push into insanity. Convinces prey to kill one's self to join it. Is known to follow family or anyone that noticed a possible abnormal piece to the prey's death. Kills all possible witnesses, driving them crazy first._

_Cannot be killed._

_Cannot be traced._

_Cannot be hunted._

And then, writing in small, neat handwriting,

_You cannot find me John Winchester._

John left that night, taking the book with him, and the number of the hunter who had suggested it. I didn't suggest to him how odd it was that he already knew exactly where the book was, as though he had had it before. I didn't say how the handwriting looked exactly like his. I didn't have time to mention how he seemed to be going rather crazy. No, I had time for none of these things. John Winchester left, taking all news of his dead sons with him, and disappeared into the night, never to be seen again.

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Whoah. Guys, I just finished my first actual long fic. THIS HAS BEEN SO GREAT. You guys, especially, have be GREAT. I cannot imagine having actually completed this if I hadn't been for you guys, so really, thanks. I has been an amazing journey, and I am looking forward to doing this again!


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